Snowstorm
by Ivory-Bride
Summary: Snowstorms in the Shire are the best times for tweenagers. A story of mittens, snowball fights, and harmless flirting. Warning: FrodoSam slash


Title: Snowstorm  
  
Author: Ivory Bride  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Frodo/Sam  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, unfortunately. Just think of the things I could do if I did!  
  
Dedication: This fic is dedicated to all the gals at the Library of Moria's Hobbit Fanclub for their companionship and pervyness. And for putting up with me through my constant bragging about this fic. I love you guys!  
  
Author's Notes: This is officially my first fic that has a plot. *cheer* I'm quite proud of it. Lots of things are a bit off, but I kept it this way just because I was in a writing rampage. So anyways, *drum roll* Here's the fic!  
  
~*~  
  
Snowstorms in the Shire can be harsh and unyielding. The skies turn gray as clouds threaten the oncoming storm. The wind picks up speed, gathering power from over the sea or mountains. It starts out so gently, crystal flakes falling down to the sky and blanketing the ground in white. However, after the grass is lightly dusted with the color, the real storm begins. The wind whips around corners, bringing snow into every crevice. The temperature drops, so that no hobbit can go outside without icicles forming on their nose. It truly is a frightening and lonely time.  
  
Of course the storm will only last a night. The starts will fade, and the sun will shine as if the storm had never existed. That is the time to be outside. Hobbit children run outside with their mittens hanging off. Mothers send them with knit garments to stay warm, most of which never make it back home. The first step outside is always breathtaking. There is still a chill in the air, but it isn't bitter, as it once was. The snow blankets everything with a blue tinted frost. The trees have covered boughs, the roads are hidden underneath it. And the children run outside to meet their friends.  
  
It's the tweenagers who have the most fun with the fresh snow. Days like these are perfect for them. The snow isn't light and feathery; it's tightly packed and damp. Perfect for snowballs, of course. What better way for a young tween to spend the day than for a snow war with their friends?  
  
Snow wars, of course, are preferred toward snowball fights. Snowball fights are for the younger children, who are just learning the art and craft of snowball making. Once you have it down packed, no pun intended, you progress to different methods, such as tackling people into the snow and throwing chunks instead of well-formed snowballs. Snowballs are overrated, really. In the heat of battle, one wants speed rather than craftsmanship. The lines of honor blur and it becomes a free-for-all. People on your side of the snowbank tackle you into the ground as you laugh and try to squirm away. Friend against friend, foe against foe. Of course we're getting ahead of ourselves here; the star of this story has yet to be mentioned.  
  
"Samwise Gamgee, you get right back 'ere an' put on your scarf!" Bell Goodchild put a hand on her hips, glowering yet smiling at her youngest son. She held out a rather hideous but warm hand-knit scarf. Sam cringed at her words and slowly pulled his hand away from the doorknob. He trundled back in his snowgear and took the scarf with a reluctant hand. Bell smiled.  
  
"There's a good lad. Now let me see you put it on."  
  
Sam groaned. "Aww, Mum! I don't want to wear it! It's. . .ugly!  
  
"Now since when do you care what you're wearin'? As long as it keeps you warm I don't see what all the fuss is about." She smiled as Sam shoved the end of his scarf into his coat in a final flourish. His initials were sewn into the end: S.G. in light green yarn, complimenting the darker shade of the rest of the scarf. He looked up to his mother who was finally satisfied.  
  
"There you are. Now run along and have fun. Do you have your mittens?"  
  
"Yes!" Sam ran out the door, waving goodbye to the window and nearly dropping a mitten in the process. Bell smiled from behind the curtain.  
  
"That boy. . ."  
  
~*~  
  
The snow crunched under his feet, making footprints in an even bluer shade than the snow first was. Sam stumbled for a moment over a rock hidden under the snow but he picked himself right back up and went along his way.  
  
The sun was shining down, but it didn't warm the air very much. The cold wasn't bitter, but it was just cold enough to require mittens and a scarf. Sam had a habit of loosing a mitten every year and every year another one would have to be knit. Of course he was determined this time not to lose one, but that story is much too long for today. We'll get to the Tale of Samwise and the Runaway Mitten another day.  
  
Sam headed to a small hill not far from the center of town. He could see that a couple young hobbits were gathered there already, starting their snowball ammunition early. Sam started running faster when he saw them, even though he wasn't late. In fact there was no set time on when to be there, so he couldn't be late. That was encouraging. He stopped running and decided to wave instead.  
  
"Hoy! Folco!" His voice wasn't heard, so he reached down and grabbed a fistful of snow, forming it into a ball. He threw it, aiming carefully at Folco Boffin who was busily building a wall. Folco, unfortunately, saw him at the last minute and ducked out of the way, sending the snowball crashing into another target- Frodo Baggins.  
  
Sam was mortified, to say the least. The snowball ended up hitting Frodo on the back of the head, sending Folco into a fit of laughter. Frodo spun around quickly with his own snowball, aiming for the perpetrator. Sam cringed, still at the bottom of the hill.  
  
"Sam! How nice to have you here!" said Frodo, cheerfully. He threw the snowball, aiming for Sam square in the chest. Sam ducked out of the way but the snowball still ended up hitting him on the shoulder.  
  
"Oh, that's not fair!" he said, beginning to climb the hill. "I was aiming for Folco!" That must have been the wrong thing to say because Folco took it as a personal attack and hit Sam on the opposite shoulder with a rather well-packed snowball. Frodo laughed and even Sam had to smile, as he practically had set himself up for that one. He reached the top of the hill, shaking his head and kicking some snow at Folco.  
  
"Hey!" another voice called from the bottom of the hill. "You haven't started without me, have you?"  
  
"Freddy!" shouted Folco. He jumped up and ran down the hill to greet his friend, tackling him into the snow with a laugh and a warm welcome. A very warm welcome. He gave Fredegar a kiss on the cheek.  
  
Frodo smiled and looked at Sam. "They're still together?"  
  
Sam nodded, although slightly blushing at the topic. "Aye. And they seem happy, too."  
  
"Mmm. . . I'm glad for them." Frodo smiled at Sam, who began to blush even further. "You know, you're going to have to pay for hitting me with that snowball."  
  
"But I didn't mean to! Besides, you hit me already. And so did Folco. So as far as I see, I've had my fair share."  
  
"True, but. . ." Frodo put a hand on Sam's arm, pulling him to a half- built show-shelter. He looked to the sky, wistfully and adopted a rather sarcastic, melodramatic tone. "That will never compensate for the horrible emotional trauma it put me through!" He put a hand to his forehead and sighed, dramatically.  
  
Sam laughed. "Is that so? Well in that case I suppose I'd better be on your side for the fight, eh? To make up for it?"  
  
Frodo smiled. "Would you?"  
  
"Aren't I always?" The two hobbits just stared at each other for the longest time, faces centimeters apart.  
  
"Hoy, you two! Stop flirting and get over here, will you?" Freddy's voice was the oh-so-kind one to interrupt the moment. Frodo laughed an averted his eyes, guiltily.  
  
"Coming, dear Fredegar!" He winked at Sam, conspiratorially and they walked over to the others. Sam pushed Freddy down as he passed and Frodo kicked some snow on him. Revenge is sweet.  
  
Frodo and Sam knelt down next to Folco, who motioned them to start working on the snow wall.  
  
"And why should we help you? We have our own shelter right over there." Frodo pointed to the half-built snow wall about 15 feet away.  
  
"You're not on our side?" asked Folco. Frodo raised an eyebrow. "Fine then, I see how it is. You two go back to your shelter. But we can't start until both are done. It wouldn't be-" he got cut off by a snowball to the back of his head.  
  
"Fair?" asked a familiar voice. Merry Brandybuck's face popped up from the other side of the wall.  
  
Frodo laughed. "Oh, Folco! Did I forget to tell you? My cousins stopped by just before the storm. They'll be staying for a week or so."  
  
Sure enough, Pippin's head popped up next to Merry's. "Don't worry. I'm good at snowball fights."  
  
Folco grumbled to himself, rubbing the back of his head and glaring at Merry. Merry smiled.  
  
"Aww, no hard feelings Folco, eh? All's fair in love and war?" he held out a hand. Folco shook it.  
  
"So long as I can be on a team opposite you."  
  
"Sounds fine to me. I'll be with Pip; we can have three teams of two."  
  
"Um, excuse me, Mr. Merry, but that would be four teams of two." Sam pointed to a pair of hobbits heading towards the hill and laughing. "Here comes Tom and Jolly Cotton."  
  
Merry looked down at the two hobbits. Tom suddenly laughed and pushed his brother into the snow, then waved up to them. Merry waved back.  
  
"Well I guess so. We'll have to get working on our shelters, now, shall we?"  
  
Folco nodded. "It's like I was saying," he kindly reminded them, glaring at Merry out of the corner of his eye. "We should all have a shelter or else it isn't fair."  
  
Jolly and Tom climbed around the snow-wall and sat down next to Frodo and Sam.  
  
"So how are we goin' about this snowball fight-war thing?" asked Tom.  
  
"Four teams of two," said Sam. "We each get a shelter an' it looks like you two are going to be a team."  
  
"Alright. Jolly's no good at throwing, but I can use him as part of my shelter."  
  
Jolly objected to that. "Hey! I can too throw snowballs!"  
  
"Yep. Come on, let's get building."  
  
The teams spilt up and went to their respective places to build. They formed a square, Frodo and Sam across from Folco and Fredegar and Merry and Pippin across from Tom and Jolly. That way they could all reach each other. Of course they would probably end up cheating and running back and forth between shelters, shoving each other into the snow, but whatever worked was acceptable, really. Even cheating.  
  
Building a proper snow wall was truly an art among tweens. You can't just pile up snow, you have to pack it down and smooth the edges so that it becomes strong and able to withstand attack. Folco and Freddy were the first two to finish building, since Folco had been the first one there and had started as soon as he chose a spot. They didn't seem to mind waiting for everyone else, however. Once they were done they found it important to focus on the other side of the wall, disappearing from the view of the others. It didn't sound like they were working too hard, but maybe the sounds of giggling and kissing were really signs of strenuous activity. Sam smiled and looked at Frodo with raised eyebrows. Frodo laughed.  
  
"They seem to be working hard."  
  
"Aye. Too hard, really. They should try to take a break sometime. They'll tire themselves out."  
  
"True." Frodo leaned back on his hands, admiring their work. The wall was pretty much done. "Well if they're working too hard, we must not be working hard enough," he said, eyeing Sam.  
  
Sam blushed and ran a hand over the snow wall to smooth it out. He knew what Frodo was getting at, but he couldn't respond right away, needing to catch up on his breathing. He wasn't tired, but his heart was racing, as it usually did in these scenarios. He sat back, relaxed, and looked at Frodo.  
  
"True. We must really be lazy."  
  
"Taking out time?"  
  
"Aye. To make sure everything's perfect-"  
  
"Before we get too involved."  
  
Sam nodded and swallowed hard. Was it him or was he closer to Frodo than he had been a minute ago? He smiled.  
  
"Everything seems perfect to me."  
  
"I agree."  
  
"Should we get involved now?"  
  
"That would be nice."  
  
"It would turn out for the best."  
  
"We're not talking about snow anymore, are we?"  
  
"No, but I think we both know where this is headin'"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"Shhh. . ." Sam leaned in close to Frodo with every intent of kissing him. He saw Frodo's eyes flutter closed as his own fell, half-lidded.  
  
Smash.  
  
A snowball fell from the sky without warning and landed on his head. Another one fell on Frodo. Giggles were heard from their right, where Merry and Pippin had seemingly finished their building.  
  
Frodo closed his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh and a groan. "Merry, I'm going to kill you!" Merry's laughter could be heard quite clearly now. He was proud.  
  
Sam smiled at Frodo, apologetically. Frodo smiled back and reached out to Sam's face, holding it in his palm. Sam leaned in to the touch, subconsciously.  
  
"We will continue that conversation," Frodo whispered. Sam pressed a hand against Frodo's, holding it to his face. He nodded.  
  
"But first, said Frodo glaring in Merry's direction, "I have to kill my cousins!" He shouted it loudly, so that Merry and Pippin could hear. Their giggled grew louder.  
  
Frodo held Sam's gaze for a bit longer then turned to the snow-wall.  
  
"Well we have this done, now it's time for ammunition," he said.  
  
And so began the building of snowballs. Sam tried not to stare at Frodo and Frodo tried not to smile and flirt with Sam. Instead, they took handfuls of snow and formed them into tweenager weapons.  
  
Snowballs could be quite effective when need be. They were easy to make and easy to use. Once you ran out you could always make more. Although the art was usually abandoned mid-battle for quicker, more effective methods, snowballs were the traditional way to go about things. The only thing to wait for now was the traditional "I'm ready" snowball. They needn't wait long. A snowball fell from the sky, widening the space between them.  
  
"Ready?!" Freddy's voice called from the opposite side of the snow- shelter. Sam threw a snowball back and Frodo returned the "Ready!"  
  
In time, they had all been hit by each other's snowballs and they gave up the order and regulation of tradition. Snowballs flew through the air at every angle. Sam was bombarded from the right, the front, and the left. Frodo sat down next to him, leaning against the wall and catching up on his breath while ducking the line of fire. A rather large, unformed lump of snow fell from the sky and plummeted onto his lap. He squealed and grimaced, though still laughing. He doubled over, clutching a rather.sensitive part of the body. Sam winced, knowing where the snow had hit.  
  
"Are you alright, sir?" he asked, worrying for Frodo in the heat of battle. Frodo smiled at him, still leaning over.  
  
"Oh. . .I'm fine, Sam, thank you. It was more of a shock than anything."  
  
Freddy's voice called over from across the way. "Did I get you?" he asked, trying hard not to laugh.  
  
Frodo scowled and smiled at the same time, then sighed. "Yes, Freddy."  
  
"Yes!" The distinct sound of slapping hands was heard. "Sorry! You alright?"  
  
"Yes, fine, thank you. I wasn't planning on having children anyway."  
  
The giggles turned more into snickers. "And I hope you don't plan on any, either!" he added. "Because I plan on getting revenge!"  
  
Sam smiled. "Shall I go over there, sir?" he asked.  
  
"I think we both should. After all, I'm sure Folco's also at fault. Ready?" Sam nodded. "On the count of three. One. . .two. . .three!"  
  
The pair of conspirators ran across the snow to Folco and Freddy's shelter. It seemed that the other four hobbits were engaged in a rather nasty battle, but as Frodo and Sam ran across the battlefield, they stopped aiming at each other and used Frodo and Sam as targets instead. They got a couple good hits, too. It seems that arms don't work as well as Sam had hoped for shields.  
  
Frodo was the first to reach the other side. It really wasn't that far a run, but he jumped over the snow-wall with a flourish and landed extravagantly next to Freddy, hitting the lad's shoulder from the backlash of the jump.  
  
"Hello, Fredegar!" he said. He grabbed Freddy in an arm and flung him to the ground. Folco just watched laughing. Of course he stopped laughing when Sam came over and did the same to him. Frodo grinned, having his revenge and gave Sam a congratulatory shoulder squeeze.  
  
"Alright. Justice has been served. Time to go home." He stood up to go back to the proper side, but soon fell back down when Freddy pushed the back of is knees from the ground. Frodo fell forward into Sam's arms, toppling the both of them to the ground. He lay on top of Sam for a few long seconds, then raised his head and looked Sam in the eyes.  
  
"Why hello, Samwise. How've you been?"  
  
"Lovely, Mr. Frodo. But things seem to be getting better by the moment."  
  
They do, don't they?" Frodo smiled and ran a finger along Sam's lips. Why Sam! Your lips are like ice!"  
  
"Are they?"  
  
"They are." Frodo lowered down to only a breath away from Sam's mouth. "I should warm them again, shouldn't I?" He parted his lips, leaning down, tantalizingly.  
  
And once more, he was interrupted. Folco snuck up behind him and shoved snow down the back of his pants. Frodo bucked forward and squealed, making Sam gasp and widen his eyes.  
  
Frodo turned over onto the snow and clawed at the back of his pants, trying to empty them of snow.  
  
"That was cold!" he yelled, still in a high-pitched voice. "And in more ways than one!"  
  
Folco cringed at the pun. "Oh-you could have come up with a better one than that."  
  
"Well excuse me, but I couldn't think! My arse was freezing!"  
  
"Ah. I always knew you used your arse to think. Of course I was always so confused, when I looked at you. I couldn't tell which was your arse and which was your face!"  
  
Frodo growled at that and tackled Folco into the snow. "Well I'm confused when I look at you, too! When you're turned around I think I see your mum walking backwards!" When he had him well pinned down, he built a nice large snowball and handed it to Freddy.  
  
"Could you do the honors, please? I'd rather not go into Folco's pants, but I'm sure you're quite familiar with them." Freddy grinned and took the snowball.  
  
"Gladly," he said. Frodo got up and Freddy kept Folco pinned in his place. Sam laughed and stood up, helping Frodo to steal the others' snowballs. They ran back to their stolen goods and things proceeded as they had before. This time, Frodo concentrated fire on Merry, since he was satisfied with Freddy and Folco and he had promised to "kill his cousins."  
  
Sam smiled at him, aiding in the bombardment of Merry and Pippin. "Did you get all the snow out of your pants?" he asked, teasingly.  
  
"Yes." Frodo grinned at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "Would you like to check?"  
  
Sam blushed, distracted during the mid-throw of a snowball. Frodo noticed that it missed it's target by a mile. He shrugged. "Maybe later."  
  
Sam looked at Frodo who sent two snowballs in Merry's direction, making up for Sam's miss. He watched as Frodo tilted his head back in laugher, hitting his target. He smiled. Frodo's hair was damp and messy, wild from all the tackling. His cheeks were rosy, brightening up the usually pale skin of his face. His eyes were a brighter blue than even the sky. Those eyes that hypnotized Sam all too often. It was thrilling, really. To be under their spell. To be trapped in their gaze. It was happening again.  
  
"Sam?" Frodo's soft and light voice broke through the spell, bringing Sam somewhat dazedly back to earth. He opened his mouth to speak but was hit by a snowball before he could think. He was rather surprised when he realized that Frodo had thrown it. He laughed.  
  
"What was that for?"  
  
"You were dreaming. It was the best way to wake you up." Frodo grinned, knowing quite well that Sam was thinking of him. "Was it a nice dream?" he asked, fishing for compliments.  
  
Sam smiled, his eyes softening. "Yes. Very nice."  
  
"As nice as the real thing?"  
  
"No. nothing, I think is that nice."  
  
Frodo smiled and sat forward on Sam's lap, pinning him back to the snow-wall.  
  
"Do you believe that dreams can come true?"  
  
"Oh, aye. I do."  
  
"I think I can help this one come true." Frodo tilted Sam's face up with two fingers and kissed the corner of his mouth, teasingly. Sam laughed and tried to steal a full kiss but Frodo wouldn't have it and turned away. He pressed his thumb over Sam's lips and kissed the other corner of his mouth. He smiled and whispered softly into Sam's ear.  
"Now Samwise, don't rush things. You shouldn't be so eager."  
  
Sam laughed. "Well excuse me, sir but with your thrusting into me because of snow in your pants, then teasing me with kisses and now practically straddling me. . ."  
  
Frodo laughed and looked down at the position he was in. "Well. It seems I am, aren't I?" he asked.  
  
Sam smiled. "You are."  
  
"And because of all this I should be snogging you right now?"  
  
"No, I was just listing the reasons why I might seem eager."  
  
"Ah. Well those are all good reasons. I especially love how you worded that 'thrusting' thing."  
  
Sam blushed. "Well excuse me, sir, but you did."  
  
"I did, I don't deny it." Frodo smiled and brushed some stray curls away from Sam's face. "I suppose you deserve some snogging, now don't you?" He grinned and moved forward to press his lips to Sam's.  
  
Once again they were but a breath apart when they were disturbed. A phantom shower of snow fell from above onto both their heads. Sam sighed and shook his head, laughing. Now he was just growing impatient. And Frodo was *still* straddling him. He looked up to see Frodo's face glaring at someone over the wall. That phantom someone broke out into giggles and ran discretely back to Jolly and Tom's shelter.  
  
"Nice job hiding, you two!" called Frodo, sarcastically. "With our specified shelters and all, I have no idea who you are! Golly, I wish I knew!"  
  
Tom laughed, loudly. "Hadn't thought of that! Sorry, you two, but we were missing your company out here!"  
  
Frodo looked back to Sam who was still wondering when he was going to get some of that promised snogging.  
  
"We need revenge," he said.  
  
Sam laughed. "Again?"  
  
"Yes. Shall we tackle them, too? It worked with Folco and Freddy."  
  
Sam grinned. "Oh, you go. I'll catch up."  
  
Frodo smiled and gave Sam a quick kiss on the cheek before running off to Jolly and Tom. Sam heard screams of laughter and smiled. He knelt back to normal firing position and took some snow from his right. He formed it into a ball, quickly ducking a chunk of snow from Pippin, and threw it in Jolly's direction.  
  
Well if it wasn't his lucky day. Jolly moved just in time for Frodo to turn around and get a face full of snow. Jolly and Tom burst into laughter and Sam cringed for what must have been the hundredth time that day. Frodo delicately wiped the snow away from his eyes and they fluttered open, gaze landing on Sam, who tried to duck behind the snow-wall, guiltily. It didn't work.  
  
Frodo wiped the rest of the snow from his face with his arm, less gently and fell to the ground and fell to the ground, making the fastest well-formed snowball in hobbit history. He threw it at Sam who caught it in one hand and threw it back. Frodo caught it with his shoulder. He mumbled to himself, then threw another snowball. This one won him some satisfaction, hitting Sam square in the chest. Of course it wasn't quite the same. It wouldn't be the same until Sam had a face full of snow.  
  
Knowing this, Frodo jumped and ran toward Sam, falling to his knees and bringing the both of them to the ground, Sam face-down in the snow.  
  
"Oh Sam, I'm sorry! Is the snow cold?" he asked, showing no remorse and every bit of sarcasm.  
  
Sam spat out snow and choked laughter before answering.  
  
"Um. . .it's. . .it's quite cold, Mr. Frodo."  
  
"Oh, I know. Believe me, I know. Do you know why I know?"  
  
"I didn't mean to, Mr. Frodo! I was aiming for Jolly!"  
  
Frodo kissed the side of Sam's neck, pulling down his scarf with an extended finger.  
  
"You didn't answer my question, love. Do you know why I'm so familiar with the temperature of the snow?"  
  
"Because I hit you with a snowball?"  
  
"Where did you hit me?"  
  
"In. . .in the face. I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo. . ."  
  
Frodo got off of Sam, letting him turn over onto his back before lying on top of him again. He smiled and kissed Sam's nose.  
  
"I know, love. I'm just reminding you that you'll have to make it up to me."  
"Just like the first time?"  
  
"Yes. You're just going around in circles, now aren't you?" he kissed the tip of Sam's nose and traced his lips with a finger.  
  
"I'm sure I can make it up to you," said Sam, thinking of all the ways he could do so.  
Frodo smiled. "Can you?"  
  
"Of course I can. Watch." Sam rolled the both of them over so that Frodo was underneath him. He kissed the corners of Frodo's mouth, teasing him in the same way he had been teased. Of course the teasing didn't last long. And this time they were left alone.  
  
Sam kissed Frodo gently, like he was desperately fragile. Frodo didn't think he was. He cradled the back of Sam's head in his hand and pulled him into the kiss. Sam hitched his breath as his lips parted against Frodo's. Their mouths moved slowly, softly with each other in a rhythm like the tides. Slowly and lovingly, enchantingly and tantalizingly. Sam had certainly made up for everything when they parted. In fact, that act of "making up for everything" should last him a couple more mistakes.  
  
Frodo looked up at Sam with half-lidded eyes. Sam smiled and Frodo was quite speechless.  
  
"Oh. . .Sam." He kissed the corners of Sam's eyes, through the tears in his own. He laughed and wiped them away with the back of his hand. I'm sorry," he murmured, mostly to himself. Sam shook his head.  
  
"Don't be." He gave Frodo another kiss before sitting up and reaching a hand down to help Frodo up. They sat still in a half daze, slowly waking out of it as snowballs flew overhead. Frodo watched as one hit a nearby tree and as another flew not far past his head, dangerously close to hitting him.  
  
"We're still in the midst of battle, aren't we?" he asked.  
  
Sam smiled as he caught a snowball and threw it back in the direction it came. "It seems we are."  
  
"Shall we clobber them?"  
  
"That would be fun."  
  
"Ready?"  
  
"Ready."  
  
"On the count of three. One. . .two. . .three!"  
  
~*~ 


End file.
